Violet Era: Poisoned Cosmos
by Therix
Summary: Having gained a teammate to lose them again so swiftly, the more technologically-minded Freedom Fighters turn their thoughts to other ways to bolster the team, with all the wrong consequences.
1. Ruthless i

"Anima, give me the designs for the X-fourteen pipeline, will you?"

The artificial lynx bowed calmly and gestured, the image of a decidedly-mundane section of piping appearing above the fox's lap, a scrolling list of facts, figures and other generic and predictable data values appearing in tandem. By all rights the decision to create pumping stations connected by pipelines that were sixty percent energy constructions was effectively reordering the entire oil market to be far more efficient. At this juncture…though…it was so indescribably dull. With one hand he spun the projection in circles, dismissively lobbing it around the room only for it to rebound back to where it had begun.

"Estimated time of completion?"

Anima paused in her service, her own hard-light image freezing as her distant mind sifted through billions of files of data to find the one pertaining to the query. AAs the document was selected motion returned and once again she inclined her head a fraction, eyes half-closed as she delivered the report. "The main pumping stations are almost sixty percent prepared to be linked to the refineries and factories, though secondary and tertiary stations are far less consistent in their percentages. The range appears to be from approximately four percent to a maximum of thirty-two. Eight percent of stations are ahead of schedule, while two percent are experiencing delays caused by the deep excavation interfering with tectonic movements."

"Wonderful. And of course, we can't do anything about that until we subjugate the Nihilist. Are our forces having any success in that area?"

Another pause, another data excavation from the vast system archives. "No." The reply needed no explanation. He already knew what the Nihilist was capable of, and where it came from. A beast of varying size and structure that emerged whenever any living thing went to a certain depth, it was a manifestation of the will at the centre of the planet, the giant gem that was the Master Beryl. While the gem on Mobius harboured an enigmatic god, the mind at the core of his world was an intelligence in no way related to a higher power. It represented the sentience of the world itself and its appearance was ever its methods of preventing the incursion of mortal beings into proximity with its mind. To drill teams appeared as an unbreakable mass of blinking eyes that would morph into gnashing jaws should they persist. Geologists found crystals that grew in front of their eyes to bar the way, going so far as to integrate the researchers into itself should they attempt to damage the faceted barrier. Thus far only Miles himself had been permitted access to the core, a sign that much of the populace had taken as divine providence and such a feat served as one of many reasons for his continued governing of the planet he called home. Even he was not safe from its force and at the centre of the planet, even shielded by the most powerful excavation gear he was capable of producing his internal sensors had begun detecting a dangerous rise in body temperature and fluctuations of blood pressure, accompanied by the initial stages of living atrophication in the presence of the enormous crystal. His subsequent flight from the centre of the planet had not been subject to a return journey, and attempts made by those to follow in his footsteps had been met by similar fates as had the rest of the expeditions.

"Have samples been recovered?"

"Many examples of physical an audio data have been recovered by survivors, but the anomalies appear to fade before any physical specimens can be acquired. When specimens have not disappeared immediately, those attempting to extract samples either are unable to damage even small sections, or are integrated into the mass as with previous cases. There appears to be no consistency and there have been equal odds of meeting an impenetrable surface as there have been workers lost to integration. We are dealing with increasing numbers of cases of PTSD and psychosomatic injuries from those who do return."  
Frowning, the fox rested his head against one fist, the other hand drumming a beat against the leather armchair. The Nihilist was the only mystery he had yet to solve, and as ever it continued to interfere with every well-laid plan he conjured. Even if it was simply the maintenance of his world and people there was that creature to consider as an unchangeable factor. How could you form an effective political strategy if you did not hold all the necessary cards? He needed more readings before he could take hold of the planetary being – as of yet he did not know if it was simply an instinctive guardian or a sentient being. Establishing that would be his priority, then.

"Recall all parties." Standing slowly Miles balled his free hand into a fist, shutting the hologram down and striding to the window of the study. "Tell them that the exploration will be on hold until further notice. The dig sites are not to be disturbed until my signal. Until then all geologists and archaeologists are to take long-range readings only, and sent any anomalies to the archive immediately for analysis. Get Scourge in here, I have a job for him."

"Already done." Anima's image flickered and disappeared and for a brief while the fox was alone. Repairs to the castle had hardly taken a great deal of time once the Freedom Fighters had vacated the premises; Sonic and Scourge had formed the greater part of the destruction, with the behemoth of Matthias only adding to the rubble that had littered the throne room. The old prince's biology had been a treat to explore in his spare time and he would miss the experiments. With such widespread and total access to the Moebian's internal structure he had been a perfect candidate for testing bionics and biotech. Now he would have to acquire a new subject.

A soft knock sounded at the door and a faint smirk crested his face. There was one small mercy to the trouble that had been caused, a success that had been the sole cause of his machinations in the first place.

"Enter." Behind him the door edged open and a figure stepped through, limbs whirring softly as he stepped in, turned, and closed the door quietly behind himself. Recalling the state he had been found in Miles laughed a callous, cold chuckle and then turned to address Scourge. To say the hedgehog was a changed Moebian could not have been further from the truth. He was still the sadistic, perverted psychopath he ever was, the difference lay in his body that was no longer under his control. One arm was now a smooth set of pistons wrapped in bundles of fibre, psychoconductive to allow the channelling of Anarchy energy into his palm and its manifestation as his signature anarchy attacks. Physically it lacked the strength of Scourge himself and was limited by its artificiality but served its purpose as to provide his weapon with manual dexterity. Through the rest of the unfortunate's bone and muscular structure ran a complex neural matrix that capped his nervous system at the cranium, dividing head from the rest of his body. Control passed to a combat AI coded to Anima and Miles' command, bypassing the need to control the hedgehog's mental functions. With direct physiological control there was no chance of him managing to override their safeties through brute force or ignorance and better yet…he had to live through it all. He knew everything he was doing and even when he was given control of his mouth that was as far as his agency went, and he was hating every minute of it.

Miles took great pleasure in the suffering of the creature only good as an attack dog.

"I hate you." The hedgehog spoke through gritted teeth, control over his vocal cords relinquished for a brief interval. It was almost his way of saying 'hello' these days.

"Of course you do." The fox dismissed his words with a wave. "You're deploying to sector eighteen. Control, activate protocol ninety-four, sub-procedure six. Shore up defences and subjugate immediate threats."

For the past six years, sector eighteen – a small continent off the main coast – had been the stronghold of the Moebian resistance group opposing his rule over the planet. Having gone undetected for half of its lifespan the stronghold boasted a considerable defensive foothold, with enough weaponry, facilities and supplies to maintain a siege indefinitely. Every now and then the troops committed to the annexation of the resistance would buckle and an insurgency force would break through the perimeter, forcing him to temporarily deploy additional troops to re-establish his control of the immediate locality. This was to be Scourge's first field-test with his metallic upgrades, and if they performed well he would be ready for more extensive deployment. The rebel faction was the perfect way to push his bionics to the limit, their technology progressing at an admirable rate. In fact, it was the only reason they were still alive.

With the resources of an entire planet available and his vast intellect the guiding hand it was well within his power to wipe this meagre warband away in a surge of guns and technology. However, every time he sent some new piece of equipment against them they adapted. Their own techs developed countermeasures and repelled him. At that moment he modified his technology to resist them, and so the cycle continued, with him stress-testing and improving his designs with each skirmish. As long as they could adapt to counter his technologies he would continue using them to improve. Once they outlived their usefulness he would surgically remove them and be done with it. They had yet to comprehend the fact that nothing on this planet lived without his choosing and should they continue to prove themselves worthwhile they would remain ignorant of such a fact for many years to come.

Galvanised into action the routines in Scourge's robotics activated, locking down his biological properties before he could form a reply. When he opened his mouth instead droned the dull monotone of an automated voice delivering a report. "Deploying. Letha force authorised?"

"If you detect VIPs, knock them out and return them to the base perimeter. Any other targets are to be eliminated permanently."

"Objectives confirmed. Mobilising." Upright, Scourge left the way he had come in, now firmly within the grip of the processor guiding his motions. Even at high speeds the system could keep up. The processor situated in his skull interpreted the information taken in by Scourge's senses and set them to the motor controls. The travel time from sense to processor to response motor resulted in an unnoticeable latency, the delay cancelled out by the phenomenal speeds the hedgehog was capable of reaching. Against conventional targets, Moebian or robotic he was still unmatched. Now he was robbed of freedom he was useful.  
Turning back to the window he addressed his AI aide once again. "Anima, give me an estimate for his operational time. I want to know how long it'll take for him to get back."

"Provided his biological siphon remains active, he will return within two hours. Maximum operational time is estimated at twenty-four hours approximately. In the event of a total siphon failure his systems will force deactivation if he cannot be returned to his station within one hour."

"What are the chances of that occurring?"

"Unlikely. Separate siphons are active across multiple body sections. Total failure in the event of critical injury is unlikely. The most likely cause of failure is the expenditure of power before he can be returned to base. His biological hardware is the most likely and accessible flaw."

"I'm aware." It was Anima's programming to warn him of potential problems, but she rarely caught them before he did even with her prestigious processing power. "There will be further modification in the future, when we have completed testing of his current systems. His core needs to be maintained for us to have a functioning adept without the use of a Beryl. A pure synthetic being is of no use to me."  
"Initial results suggest the link to the Anarchy Node is genetic. If this is the case his connection to the Node will be impossible to maintain in a primarily synthetic body." Lifting one hand a cluster of pixels formed an image, a sphere festooned with pipes and tubes. "His organs can be replaced but the hypothesis is that the more of his DNA that is removed, the weaker his powers will become."

"Explore all possible options. I will grow tired of his tirade of insults eventually. They are humorous for now, but I will soon require a pawn that is completely obedient."

"I feel like we're missing something." Tails lay back in his chair, crossing his legs idly as he mulled over the options. His body mostly rejuvenated from the stress it had suffered in past months, work was once again on his mind. "We're not getting the right responses." Though he had now returned the losses sustained by the team recently still weighed heavily and they needed some form of support. Nicole's battalions could not afford them the swift, mobile support they desired at the level of a strike team. Like the Acorn Military, battalion soldiers were designed for frontline combat, and as such many were now away running recon or border patrol, or launching armoured assaults on key Robotnik structures. When the distance between her and them grew too far each squad fell back on conventional programming, interacting with units around them to form a cohesive and efficient fighting force, albeit somewhat predictable. Operating over such long range without real independent thought left them at a major disadvantage. They needed creativity.

"Why not just use Veracity's original sequences?" Beside him Nicole sat, twirling her fingers, projecting the coding that represented her initial findings on virtual intelligence. "Before he bonded to Metallix, he was still mostly unshackled."

"He was a combat robot." Tails replied after a pause, "and these sequences are flawed. From what you've told me he wasn't active for very long, and his merging of minds with Metallix may have been his saviour. At the level of information he was processing he couldn't have lasted for much longer like that. He would have burned out. We need to simplify the streams of data without them losing their value." Delving into Metallix's code for the necessary components was an option; he certainly had the electronic complexity to handle it. Unfortunately almost the same limitations applied – he was designed for combat and only combat. His original design and software would need modification and refinement before he was ready for a new body and permanent activation. They wanted these minds to be like Nicole, to be able to interact with the team on a personal and daily basis. They wanted friends, not swords. And so, much of this would have to be customised or scrapped and redesigned.

"Take a look at this." Waving aside Veracity's old sequencing the lynx pulled a fresh wave of data onto the screen, constructing a sphere from the information and picking away pieces of it until only the skeleton remained. "We might not know how to get there, but we know what we're looking for."

"Nicole, what exactly am I looking at?"

The AI smiled to herself in a moment of professional pride. "This is me…or part of me. When I was building Veracity I wanted a code that would modify itself on the fly, so I logged myself in on one of my personalised Onslaughts and then took readings based on processing done inside the unit itself. This is what I got; half an hour of the stuff. I couldn't replicate it precisely, so I had to improvise as best I could."

"Adapted natural code in an artificial setting?"

She nodded. "I was a glitch; entirely random. You can't replicate that sort of thing or increase the chances of it happening. So, I did my best to duplicate the patterns and algorithms I generated by being in that processor. The base lines were simple enough…" A second imaged formed, overlaying the first and highlighting the duplicate parts. "…but I'm missing the higher functions. I can't purposefully create the randomness in an evolutionary brain."

"That's why it's evolutionary. It's made by mistakes, not design." The fox furrowed his brow. "Maybe we can use a semi-organic design? If we could construct a neural webbing from organic material then bond it to an artificial base, would that work?"

"I think we'd need a willing participant for what is essentially a lobotomy. We've not got the technology to be mapping brain functions at that level, and even then we'd have to account for decay." Closing the twinned images the lynx hastily constructed another, a wire frame of connections within the generic sphere of influence. "The moment we introduce something physically organic into the equation, we have to account for constant maintenance and operational time. It might be possible, but I can't be sure of the results or of the necessary work after the fact."

"So, not a viable long-term solution then. How about taking brain scans from someone and then mapping them onto a digital template? It may not give us the exact result, but it might be a step in the right direction." Tails turned the thought over in his head, acknowledging Nicole's agreement with a passive nod. With her own personal data she had been developing constructed intelligence theory for a while now, and her experience and preliminary work was proving valuable to their efforts. The entire day had been spent brainstorming ideas. Perhaps it was time to relax a little.

"I'm going to see Fiona." He announced, standing. "She's a biologist and doctor, maybe she has some idea."

As he turned for the door, Nicole chuckled, giving him pause. "Have you asked her out yet?"  
The joke was growing somewhat tiresome already – their interaction in the hospital had done a lot; wonders had been worked, but they weren't…like that. He wasn't prepared to think that way just yet.

But he smiled anyway. "Give it time."

"Makes me a freak show and then I can't even enjoy it…"

Leaves were torn from low branches as he passed them, his speed generating enough force to pull them away without even the benefit of contact. He got what was going on – Miles was having some fun with his new toy, putting it through its paces…didn't mean a thing that he was along for the ride. There wasn't even the courtesy of pain; everything was numb with no control over his senses or movements. Watching pain inflicted with no ability to feel the result or any chance of enjoying the other pleasures of life was robbing him of his will to live.

Bullets ripped through the air around him, too fast for their firers to keep up with, passing by into the undergrowth. Yeah, amazing – he was literally the only target for miles and they _still_ couldn't hit him.

Abruptly he jerked sideways and he felt his body react beneath him, pushing up and away from the ground, curling away into a ball. He didn't feel the momentary loss of speed, nor the rush of liquid as he passed through one soldier's chest, leaving a gaping rent and little to call Moebian. His armour, a thin weave to camouflage him against the forest, had not shielded him from Scourge's anarchy sight nor the force of his charge. Another guerrilla fell a moment later, automatic weapon spraying bullets skyward, corpse left behind in a trail of blood and viscera. Two kills and still he felt nothing.

His presence drew the other advance squad out of hiding, rising from cover with weapons blazing. Still moving his body jinked to avoid overlapping fields of fire, carving a ragged path away from the centre of the circle. Veteran hands followed him just out of reach, tracer fire pulping foliage as fast as he did.

Reaching the edge he switched direction in an instant, rocketing off sideways and transforming the motion into a single circle. He came upon his first target and halted, the armoured Moebian swinging his gun towads his chin in a practise move. Scourge's hand lashed out to catch it, gripping the stock and twisting sideways, his remaining hand fastening over his opponent's face. His hand snapped sideways and brought with it a sickening crunch of snapping bone before he moved again. Around him the other soldiers began to move, falling back from his position into something resembling a firing line. He followed, overtaking the rearguard, arm swinging out to catch them on the neck as they turned to fire. The blow crushed the soldier's windpipe and he crumpled against the blow, the hedgehog pivoting at the waist and hurling the corpse into his friend before he could find his aim.

He went down in a tangle of limbs, his colleagues twisting to cover him. Suppression fire flicked in his direction and once again the robotic mind in his drove him to action, dropping low and darting forward beneath their shots.

Steady aim saw a burst of fire glance from his shoulder in a burst of energy and he shuddered with the impact, the sensation catching him off-guard.

"You bastards actually hit me," he laughed raucously, "good fuckin' job!"

Before they could even form a cohesive firing line, now down four men, he was on them, a butcher. Once again his hand came across one man's throat, this time lifting him into the air and then powering him into the ground. In his support a colleague came to his aid, thrusting with a long, serrated combat knife. The adept pushed off the ground with his hand, slamming both feet into his target's chin. Another neck snapped from the force of the blow, the man below him crushed under the weight of hedgehog and bionics combined.  
As his feet returned to earth he released both targets and came to standing, hand rising to interject the barrel of an enemy rifle, palm outstretched. Instinctively with the gesture Scourge fired, a hail of anarchy needs passing through the aggressor in a bloody mist of particles, spinning again and repeating the story with two more targets.

The final target was less fortunate. His comrades dead the sergeant persevered, heavy pistol rounds flashing away into the forest with only a blur to aim at.

[VIP recognised. VIP confirmed. Initiating return protocol.]

Not a single shot landed, the unfortunate's only indication as to the whereabouts of his target coming in the form of two solid blows, one to each temple. The shock and pressure was too much for his senses, collapsing into the mud, everything black. A steel grip fastened on his collar and lifted him, eyes passing over identification markings.

[Returning to resistance gun line.]

Taking off once again, Scourge had forgotten the battle in which he had been an observer. That feeling…the energy coursing through his veins…you couldn't take that away. Miles robbed him of his senses and his control, but that smug git couldn't get everything right. Fancy tech, lots of science and metal limbs, and he still couldn't get rid of that.

He had _felt_ that.

 **A/N: Well, welcome back everyone. Honestly, I didn't expect to be back on FFN to release this anytime soon, but I thought that at some point I should finally get around to doing so. Ruthless takes place between the Metallix and Poisoned Cosmos arc, setting you up for what has become a favourite story.**


	2. Ruthless ii

The evening was beautiful – or as admirable as much as a natural event could be. The sun was not within his grasp and nor was the totality of the world's geological functions and so for the time, control over such things eluded him. And so, when the sun blasted a red carpet over the treetops and burnt everything to shades of amber and crimson, the sight disturbed him. There was a paradox in how he felt only states of perfection could be obtained unnaturally, and yet he felt it was only right that in the anarchic design of nature itself there would be sparse moments of untapped brilliance. It concerned him that a world full of living things, many of them incapable of sentience, could be lucky enough to experience even an instant of such things. It was not that they didn't deserve it – all life deserved at least moment of perfection before its end – but rather that they must subject themselves to the whims of fate. They could not control their fortune any more than he could control the revolutions of the planet or the alignment of the galaxies.

 _Death is not the hand that drove the knife_

 _In to the hilt. He did not make us suffer._

 _We held the knife and we twisted it_

 _Harder in our efforts to climb higher._

The poet's words were remarkably dark for the fullness of his content – he had celebrated life if the most macabre of ways, ones that Miles found entertaining to say the least. Poetry on the whole tended to pass him by, the bounds of philosophy usually beneath his work. Practicality had a habit of getting in the way. The mysteries of ideals and beliefs could be left to those with lives wasted on it already. In truth, much of his work broached the confines of traditional science and delved into a conglomeration of science, theology and philosophy. For many that would practically spell a death sentence for their field of work, stepping on the toes of so many others, but you didn't dispute your ruler. Miles was free to invade any portion of the theory he wanted and then make it a reality if he so chose, often working in tandem with other scientists he had licensed to develop technology in his stead. He was the greatest mind on Moebius, and not opposed to working with others. A greater aptitude did not prefigure the correct viewpoint.

"Scourge is returning. Enemy forces have been subdued or executed depending on their station, and he will be in his cell within the hour." Leaning on the rail with him, Anima delivered the news without tone. Her emotional core was still in progress, and even within its limited capacity it was impossible to care for Scourge even in the loosest sense of the word. "The local module is not reporting any worthwhile damage to organic or inorganic tissue."

"Has he suffered _any_ wounds?"

"Biological scanners are coming in with several minor lacerations, but these are healing passively due to his physiology. It is likely they will not be evident by the time he has made it home."

"In that case, his test run can be marked as a success, unless anything happens on the way back. Considering that we have just contained the only possible threat, that's unlikely. Have his bionics suffered any implant rejection yet?"

"Thus far they haven't." The AI lynx tilted her head sideways as she accessed the files streaming in directly from the hedgehog. "The psychological conditioning combined with the membrane interface seem to be working. It may simply be a delayed immune system reaction, but right now the connection seems fine. I am prepared to continue monitoring him indefinitely to ensure there are no setbacks."

"Adept physiology may be strengthening the connection." He did not need to tell her to record the speculation – she would do so anyway. "Connection to a strong energy source may serve as a catalyst or conduit for the bonding process. We should see if that is having any effect. If it is, we may be able to use it when it comes to modifying his bionics to carry anarchy energy."

"Noted." The lynx nodded. "Do you have plans for any immediate modification?"

"So soon after the previous procedure? No. Physically his bionics may be more resilient than his biology, but we need to ensure that we can channel anarchy energy at their original rate. It may be more beneficial to instead create an exoskeleton or battlesuit, if we can't maintain the flow of power."

"External armour would have little application if the body can be turned into armour, so we wait." Looking to him, she received a nod of confirmation; she was right, again. She still looked to him for assurance in these cases, every now and then. It was something of an infantile streak and platonic bond between them – she was forever learning and growing and evolving, while he had reached his evolutionary peak. As her creator, her father in a way, she looked to him for guidance as she matured. It was part of her development, though she was kept unaware. She learned by his design, the places he took her and the people he exposed her to, jaded by his own sense of the world and how it should be. Played right, it would be more effective than any training regime he could devise. Her reasons, her loyalties, would all be cemented and vindicated by experience. There would be failsafes, of course – only a complete idiot would design an artificial intelligence without some means of protection – but those would be emergency measures. With any luck they would not be needed.

"Come." He pushed way from the rail, turning to the door. "Do we have the genetic scans from Matthias' body?" He began to walk, passing through from the balcony and his study into the corridors beyond. Anima followed him silently, her ethereal body treading no noise into the carpet.

"The results are almost complete. Results are mixed – there were several benign tumours and several malignant ones, likely as a result of the accelerated process. They were in the earlier stages of development, but with the extent of his wounds I am unable to discern if there were any advanced stages in the damaged tissue. Recovered samples from his injuries displayed a total of seven different strains between them, but that is as far as I can examine."

"We will need more subjects. Since we can safely assume Matthias is a little too dead to be of any use beyond that with which he has already supplied us, we will need to draw in the local resources. Let's try and acquire a family – genetic similarities will give us greater reliability. If we can't acquire a family, keep it within a neighbourhood. Until we hammer out the greater flaws, we can consider this project still in the prototyping stage, and for that we need consistency." He paused for breath,

"I don't need to tell you to be discrete. No need to worry the masses."

"Of course. I'm beginning preparations as we speak – I'll deploy in two days, when the week begins." Planned well, the family's disappearance would go noticed but undisturbed. There were a few methods of concealment, witness protection the most common amongst them. The existence of the rebel faction was hardly a secret and thus it was only fitting that some 'anonymous members of society' would have offered some information or done some work to sabotage this legion of outcasts. It didn't matter that the whole thing was a fabrication, rebellion and all, nor that all his research was not simply for the benefit of his planet. The greater welfare his civilians enjoyed could be called a side-effect. He researched and developed because he had nothing else to do. He surely had some purpose to exist, but had not found it.

"What about the genetic material recovered from Felicia? Have we had any success in that area?"  
Anima fell silent, unsure of how to break the news. He understood what she meant before she even said it. "There _wasn't_ any genetic material to be recovered. Between the chaos radiation falloff and the excessive damage inflicted upon her by Miles-Two, there are no remains. Post-operation scans and genetic recovery has proven impossible, even when I have employed my most forensic retrieval methods. I have taken the liberty of marking her field test as a failure."

"Nothing? Nothing at all?" Damn. "Weren't you monitoring the combat?"

"I was." She dipped her head, ashamed. "With the presence of several Mobius units, my sensors were disrupted. Their presence was too invasive for me to be able to compensate. Only conventional optics remained functional, and I could not record any readings. From what I was able to observe, the best I can surmise is a prognosis; Felicia's defences failed somehow. It required what I theorise as the equivalent of a sixth-level energy organic energy expenditure, alongside the addition of an unknown weaponised energy format. I cannot provide precise readings for the quantities nor comparisons of energy required, and I cannot provide any power structures. According to my orders, I have failed."

"What a waste…" Miles muttered the words alone, too quiet for her to hear, stepping with her into the elevator. Still, all was not lost. "Then we work on the understanding that the damage done exceeded her maximum potential for energy absorption, and focus on finding effective countermeasures. If organic defences are not capable, an artificial backup may be required. Accurate readings were offset by additional operational parameters we weren't prepared for. However, we have room to theorise based on background data compiled. You may not have succeeded in the way we had hoped, but you have not failed yet."

"I haven't?" She couldn't believe it.

"Anima, listen closely. Initially I designed you to be the most sophisticated information collation and application computer on the planet. You have now gone beyond that, but the processing power still available to you has not diminished. You have plenty of space to theorise based on what we have. Take some time and consider where we can take this from within the limited resources available. The foundation of science is trial and error – though we should strive to limit the number of errors, it is still a valid method for the time being."

Teaching. He still had to teach.

He'd been prepared for this, and yet…unprepared for what it would entail. The disembodiment of inhabiting what had been empty space lacked emotion and feeling. So dull and artificial. It went beyond lacking a real, mobile body – only a collection of servers and some terminals as his physical connection to the world – the space he now inhabited was interstitial, lacking purpose other than to be a place to exist. The others were aware of his presence for now, but he would not be regaining himself in the foreseeable future; not until they had completed their research into artificial intelligence, and had subjected him to the necessary modifications that would be required for his functioning within the team. The terms and conditions had been explained – a lacking in sufficient personality, as the conglomerate had been, which would have to be rectified for him to be anything more than a tool to be used. His own depth of introspection surprised him; a weapon, conscious of its status as one.

Time to talk.

 _We're hitting a wall with our research._

The words flowed into his consciousness as a mind connected with his own. Lacking audio and video receptors alongside the means to interpret such things and respond accordingly, any interaction with another being was through a more direct connection. Organics, physical beings responded with keystrokes and their proximity to a terminal, a point where his mind and his hardware were one and the same. Technology, like Nicole, connected wirelessly. Programming met programming.

[You are an advanced program, and the result of an evolutionary process. You should not expect to replicate it in a laboratory setting.]

 _Our hands are tied. We're losing team members and they're not getting replaced._

[It may be insensitive, but you have only lost two, and from examining battle logs as Veracity they did not seem exceptional. Competent and effective, yes, but not extraordinary.]

 _We want friends, not just warriors._

[You need warriors first. A warrior can become a friend. Is that not what you are doing with me?]

 _We need to make sure it works first._

[Then perhaps I may offer some assistance. It is only speculation, but the most definite change in my functions I can observe since my creation had been my loss of the chaos core. It was integrated into Veracity's programming when he assimilated me, but this software lacks the same power.]

 _You're saying we should develop a chaos drive, or something similar?_

[I believe what it embodies is worth further analysis. I was never privy to the details of the original, and so I cannot tell you if their creation is limited to Chaos himself, nor do I know the process he used. However, it appears to have the greatest correlation between AI sentience theory and application.]

 _I'm not sure we have the resources for that._

[I simply relay my observations to you. Whether you choose to pursue these lines of enquiry is based on your decisions, not mine.]

 _I'll need to talk to the others before anything is decided._

[Do as you see fit.]

Withdrawing from his consciousness, Nicole turned her gaze elsewhere as Metallix retreated into his depths, as far as a computer could go into meditative thought. She couldn't contact Tails just yet; he and Fiona needed their privacy. Maybe they weren't anything more than friends yet, but privacy and seclusion could be appreciated. She was a positive influence on the scientist, her presence diluted when others were about.

For Tails, cutting back was proving to be a chore in itself. Selecting but a single project to focus on perhaps could have been misconstrued as a chosen direction rather than a scared yet stubborn mind trying to hold all the ties, but the reality was that this project could not be run in tandem with the others. For even one with intellect as massive as he, it took a truly exceptional mind to make such a leap into technology and intelligence itself. He was combining biological science with electronic science; it wasn't that he was letting up on how much he did, it's just that all he had was going into one thing.

It would be a slow process to convince him to let up on the constant theorising and construction. Already she and Fiona had held several incognito meetings, trying to work out how they would alleviate some of the pressure from the necessary daily tasks and then convince him to take breaks from what had essentially become a life of science. He need a social life – something to do outside the laboratory, but how exactly did you teach that to someone who had never really had parents, spent his life in an orphanage, and was generally made the outsider by his phenomenal intellect? It was even worse – Nicole's life, as of yet, could not ascend to much true socialisation outside of Knothole proper, and so while she could be of use by taking the strain from management and jurisdiction, it fell to Fiona and the others to pull him from his work. They needed to find something that could occupy his mind.

"Elias." Bodiless, she answered the call coming in on her systems. She had been involved in several political movements in the early reign of the young king, efforts made to trim away the red tape legacy of his father, modernising the process where necessary and reviving more traditional practises where it made sense to. She was all set to become joint Minister of Internal Affairs alongside Megan. As his wife she technically should have been queen, but as it was that position would have served as little more than a figurehead without any power behind it. While 'your majesty' was the appropriate term for her, nothing had stopped her from stepping foot on the council in another, more effective role. Internal Affairs was a massive department and she could not manage it alone – one mind not enough for the scale of work required – and neither could Nicole, tied as she was to the Freedom Fighters. So they had come to the agreement that they would each pick up some end of the slack, and to this end plans had already been made to install a significant habitation server to allow Nicole to function at nigh on full capacity even this far from her home.

"Nicole." The monarch's face appeared from his end of the line, nodding respectfully to her image in turn shown to him. Even had she had a hologram available at his location there would have been no bowing or curtsey, one of Elias' first unofficial acts as king being to establish that he wasn't interested in pointless formality. Even as a prince he had felt himself well off in comparison to many, but nevertheless a Mobian and subject to no more respect than anyone deserved for their actions.

"Megan has been sorting through the palace guards and police force to overhaul the system. Hartley has been helping her, but they want your input on some names they're not sure on."

"Send me the list; I'll get back to them by the end of the week." There was almost some new piece of legislation to read over, and Nicole could hardly gloss over them, capable of reading essays in moments. They passed many of these cases onto her for the final say, aware of her status as a technically impartial judge, somewhat if not entirely freed from many organic prejudices. "I'm of the mind that all the definite traitors in the guard died when they attacked Alicia, but we don't yet have a way to test that for sure. When my server is installed I'll devote some power to working it out, but I'm afraid for now we have to trust that those who turned against us were solely part of Geoff's plan. With any luck, the splinters left from his failure will melt into the background."

"I'd rather not take any chances." His expression hardened, images of his mother flooding his mind.

"If there are people this close to us who would willingly switch sides, they could be used by anyone trying to gain a foothold on the kingdom. Geoffrey St. John may be dead, but I'm sure you know what I mean."

The lynx signalled her agreement. "We don't want loose ends. If that was from your father, I would consider it draconian, but I understand. Just trust for now that anything left is dormant."

"I don't really have much choice, do I?" He breathed heavily, bracing his arms against the sides of the terminal. "I'm worrying for Alexis and Megan, Nicole. I can't help it."

Her avatar rested her head in her hands, mulling the situation over for a moment. "Maybe there's something I can do as a temporary measure." Only the beginnings of an idea, perhaps, and the appropriate people would need to be asked, but it was certainly possible. "Bunnie and Antoine joined up with us while Tails was in hospital. I could see if they'd be willing to do some guard work for your family for a little while, until we're more prepared. Don't quote me on that, I have to ask them first."

He looked up, a mote of surprise in his expression. "Would they be interested? Antoine left the military to get away from it all, didn't he?"

"If he had, would he have joined up when we asked him?" The lynx grinned wryly. "He left his post because if he hadn't, Max would have kicked him out. He still wants to do right by everyone – I don't really think he'd be content to just fade into obscurity, do you?"

"I guess not." Her smile infected him. "The soldiers miss him. Our new commander had a good reception, probably because he was chosen by their best general and is living up to the legacy. They haven't questioned his choice to promote someone low down on the chain because he's never made a tactically unsound decision."

"Then they'll be happy to see him back, even if he's just as a bodyguard for a little while." Already her plan was in motion, searching for the married couple to deliver her suggestion directly. "I reckon he'll say yes. It's a favour for a friend, not a contract."

Evening was beginning to set in, late afternoon hanging onto the moment a little longer, many members of the group retiring to the living room as Telera prepared dinner. Even now it seemed empty, only Sonic, Sally, Bunnie and Antoine there to fill the space. In the past the tigress' absence at this time had never really been noticed, everyone aware of her talent with food. Now, with Tails and Fiona either arguing or mumbling awkwardly to each other, Amy in her room try to get her head round her new lifestyle and both Retis and Lupin…gone, it seemed too big for just the four of them.  
She appeared in one of the abandoned chairs silently, her holographic projectors taking their time to manifest as to minimise the disruption of the moment. Two couples just sitting there, the television on in the background.

"Bunnie, Ant, I've got Elias on the line at the minute. He's got some concerns we think you might be able to help with."

"What is tze trouble?" The ex-general sat up, leaning forward to listen.

"After what happened with…well…the queen, he's worried for the safety of his family while we're still going through the preening of the guard forces. We're hoping that maybe for a little while you two could act as temporary bodyguards until he's settled in more and less worried about remaining insurgents."

"Ya know…ah can't tell if he's just paranoid," Bunnie gestured half-heartedly with one arm slung over the armrest, towards Sally, "or got some serious concerns. Ah'm not meanin' anything by it, but he don't want to be havin' trust issues."

"I'm aware." It was a possibility the AI had already anticipated, and had prepared a solution. "Once I'm setup over there, I'm going to be sorting out the guard troubles myself, but that's going to take a few weeks. I'm thinking if you go there bi-weekly, you can give him the security he's after for long enough to stop him worrying, but he won't start relying on knowing the names, life stories and genetic codes of all of his guards. You think you're up for it?"

"Tze choice is not mine to make." Antoine looked to his wife.

"Ah guess we're goin' then. We signed back up ta do this kinda thang." With her free organic hand Bunnie shook his shoulder gently, reassuringly. "We always said we were going ta travel, didn't we?"

"Perhaps not what we had in mind, hmm?" He retorted with a smile, Nicole once again bouncing the greater part of her consciousness back to Elias, still negotiating the finer points of the political game.

"Good news," she added in a moment of pause, "they're good to go with the plan. We'll get them heading down in a day or two."

"You have no idea how good that is to hear." She understood the isolation he felt, at the top.

"We'll have to be calling them back regularly to help out with operations at this end, so I'm afraid you won't be getting them the entire time, but it should be enough. Now…if you'll excuse me, I need to talk to Tails about something.


End file.
